One Step Away
by foggi
Summary: Sometimes you can want it but not quite enough. That's where she is with Spike.


> One Step Away  
  
Author: Foggi
> 
> Rating: PG-13
> 
> Timeline: Early season six, sometime in between "Flooded," "Life Serial," etc.
> 
> Pairing: Spike/Buffy
> 
> Summary: A little angst, a little frienship, but the farthest thing from love. Spike knows why he can never have her as anything more than this. Buffy and Spike hang out, most of the story is from Spike's POV, with a tiny bit of Buffy's POV mixed in.
> 
> Why this Fic was written: In response to the Spuffy Ficathon, at the request of LJ user Dawnie05. Hope you like it, sweetie. Might not be exactly what you wanted, but I tried!
> 
> Notes: I may add some more scenes to this later, which will fit in before the ending. Because it'd be nice to have some more fluff with our beloved Spuffy. But it's not a WIP, this is finished...I just might be adding to it depending on how everyone feels about it. Yay.
> 
> Feedback: Please! In my LJ post linking to the fic, or email Laura at spookysand.com  
  
Part One: Alone at Night  
  
I hear her heartbeat before I see her face. Never knocks anymore, probably because she thinks I'm just a waste of space and not worth being asked if I'm too busy to see her...but I like to think that she doesn't knock because we're just-that-close. Start loving woman who are incapable of loving you back and lying to yourself becomes the only bleeding way to survive. Either way, at least she's here. Don't much care what she does while she's here. Just like seeing her alive and whatnot. Which doesn't make me a stalker, because if someone you love is dead for three months and then miraculously comes back to life...you're damn well right to want to see her face. And I've been lucky; she's come around here a lot lately. She's miserable...which is why she's here. Can't be miserable in front of the others, because she's too worried about what they will think. I, however, mean about as much as pond scum does to her, which makes it all okay.  
  
"Hey." She looks at me listlessly as I turn to face her.  
  
"Hello, Buffy. So...What brings you to a graveyard in the middle of the night? Oh, wait, that's your job." I smile at her, hoping she'll smile back. She doesn't. Suppose I'm not a very funny guy.  
  
"Not really. I mean, we could go slay something I guess...I just wanted to get out of the house."  
  
"How 'bout you lay off the work for the evening? Think the world will be safe for one night without you."  
  
"Yeah, you got by for...what...a hundred and forty-eight days without me? What's one more?"  
  
"I didn't mean to—"  
  
"It was a joke, Spike."  
  
"Oh."  
  
And then came the silence that plagued us every time she came by the crypt at this hour. Once we got through with the witty repartee all that hung in the air was that Buffy Summers was so miserable that she was hanging out with a soulless vampire in the middle of the night...which just isn't something you talk about with "bitter enemies."  
  
"So...what do you do for fun around here?...I mean, besides all the killing."  
  
"Stare at the wall...watch television...think of yo—"Dammit, that's excellent, Spike. Piss her off with your love and devotion. That'll make it all better.  
  
"Sounds...almost as boring as my life." At least she seemed to have missed, or was ignoring, that last statement.  
  
"I have one of those games in the closet."  
  
"One of what games?" She looked scared to death. As though I was going to pull out some kind of Vegas stripping game and force her to play. How wonderful it is to be treated like a total jackass all the time. /  
  
"Not what you're thinking...it's that Monopoly game. You know...where you buy things?"  
  
"Oh! Wait...why the heck do you have Monopoly sitting around the house? Oh my god, Spike, did you steal that from some little kid?!?"  
  
"No-o-o. I bought it at the Walmart downtown...s'open 24 hours. Great place."  
  
"You bought it? Why? Isn't that kind of...not vampire-y? Don't you lose, like, macho-vampire-man points for doing something like that?" Well, at least she was laughing now...  
  
"I think I lost all possible points when I stopped killing people over a year ago. The Monopoly thing is not such a big deal. You...um...eeee-vi-ly defeat your opponent in Monopoly. It's very "macho." Besides, if you steal the game from some kid, odds are most of the pieces are going to get lost in the process of taking it, and you can't play the bloody game without all the pieces."  
  
"Wow." She smirked at me.  
  
"Hush." I glared at her.  
  
"Okay, we'll play. But I get to be the puppy dog!" She bounced up and down like a little girl at a slumber party. God, she's so fucking beautiful.  
  
"Fine, but I get to be the banker."  
  
"No way! You'll totally cheat! You're evil!"  
  
"That's right, I'm a bad, evil Monopoly playing man." I rolled my eyes and went to fetch the board game.  
  
Three hours later she was asleep in my bed, while I sat on the couch and watched her. Still couldn't believe the tiny blonde valley girl had beaten me at a stupid board game. She had fallen asleep not long after she won, and I moved her to the bed. Now I was just keeping my distance so she wouldn't get the wrong impression in the morning when she woke up. Course, just the fact that she fell asleep at my place was going to piss her off enough to hit me in the face as she rushes out to make sure Dawn is okay. But if I was in the bed when she woke up there'd be nothing left of me at all. Obviously.  
  
I went to the refrigerator to grab a drink when I heard her call my name softly.  
  
"Buffy?" I walked over to the bed and looked at her looking up at me groggily.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"I don't know...no clocks. But the sun's not even starting to rise yet. Go back to sleep."  
  
"No...I should go." She started to get up; I lightly grabbed her by the shoulders.  
  
"Buffy, go to sleep. I'm not going to...do anything. It's quiet here. The witches at are your place and your little sis' is a big girl who can take care of herself, I saw that much this summer." She was looking up at me with such vulnerability...and breathing heavily. "You okay, Slayer?"  
  
A heavy sigh as she rubbed her forehead.  
  
"I'm okay. I just don't want to go to sleep right now. I'm not that tired."  
  
"Nightmare?" I looked at her tenderly.  
  
"Just a little one." She didn't look me in the face, just started picking at her two-week old, crackled manicure.  
  
"Buffy—"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it. You already know what it was about...just leave it alone, please."  
  
Of course we wouldn't talk about it. One day I would get smart and stop offering.  
  
"Alright, then. Can I do something?"  
  
The look that she always gives me when I asked her something like this has every possible answer written in her eyes. Godyeshelpmebutdontgettooclosebecausei'msupposedtohateyou.  
  
"Tell me a story?" I chuckled. Every now and then this woman who'd lived a thousand impossible lives acted like an eight year old.  
  
"I don't have any fairy tale books around here, luv."  
  
"Shut up. I meant...remember when I walked in here when you were telling Dawn about some sort of disgusting killing you were involved in? You must have tons of stories like that."  
  
"You want me to make you feel better by telling you a 'disgusting killing story?'"  
  
"That's the plan."  
  
"That's not normal, pet."  
  
"Neither are we," she whispered as she settled back into her pillow. I sat down on the opposite side of the bed and stroked her hair and told her all about the insane asylum I invaded with Drusilla (of all people...) years ago.  
  
Hated to see this girl as depressed as she was, but god it was nice to be this close to her tonight.  
  
Part Two: Viewer Reactions  
  
She sat with Xander and Willow at the table in the Magic Box, reading some incredibly boring books. Giles and Dawn were in the other corner arguing over what appeared to be an Algebra I textbook. Apparently the old man had gotten suckered into helping out with the Math studies. She was taking European history this year too...told her I'd help with that, but Mathematics? Hell, no. I'd figured I would stop by to help with the research team junk. Had nothing better to do, and this morning when Buffy left my crypt she didn't even come close to punching me. Progress, indeed.  
  
But, low and behold, as I walked towards her she looked up at me in horror.  
  
Great, just what I need: Bipolar Buffy.  
  
The insecure schoolboy in me rose to the surface with her glare.  
  
"Uh, Slayer, you got a minute?"  
  
"I don't. I'm busy...research-y stuff."  
  
"Well, what's the research for?"  
  
Xander glared in my general direction, without looking directly at me of course, and started speaking in his holier-than-thou tone. Pathetic, really, he was still waiting for Buffy to go for him. Not in a million years, jackass.  
  
"Spike, I think we're all just fine without your help. In fact, we're better off without it."  
  
"Xander." Buffy glared at her "friend" in what was most likely an unintentional, gut reaction to his comment. She'd never pruposely defend me. Don't know how she can stand to be around him, any of them, after what they did to her. Selfish bastards.  
  
"Buffy, it's Spike. And that means you don't need to worry about his feelings," he turned to me again, "Listen, dumbass, we don't need anyone stalking Buffy anymore. If you're that worried about seeing her, go steal that robot you had made...it's in the basement. She's been through enough without having to put up with your crap too." He looked at me like he had just made the single greatest point in the history of time. I was pissed as hell, of course.  
  
"Oh...bloody hell! I helped you idiots all summer, and this is the thanks I get? Buffy and I...are friends and I can help her whenever I damn well please! Listen to you, talking about her like she's not even in the room. Bloody ridiculous, you'd think she was the robot the way you treat her." Fantastic, now I had the entire group, except for good old Dawnie, glaring at me.  
  
"Um, Spike, you're just...making things stressful here. You should probably just leave." Willow jumped in as Xander looked angrier by the moment. She looked at me with this calm confidence that just proved how completely full of herself she has become recently.  
  
"Buffy?" I looked at her, eyebrow raised.  
  
She looked at the tiles on the floor.  
  
"You, uh, you probably can't help much with the research...But, I'll be, um, patrolling tonight. Maybe I'll see you then?"  
  
Not the best of all possible answers, but she was obviously under immense pressure from these idiots. At least she was trying. Gave her a small nod as I walked out, throwing the ratty green blanket over my head. Can't expect much from a girl who's education in friendship comes from this group.  
  
Part Three: Words That Only You Can Hear  
  
"So, you're friends are beginning to sound like overbearing parents."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"What? It's true."  
  
"I know."  
  
"They put a lot on you, Buffy."  
  
"They always have...I'm the strong one."  
  
"That true?"  
  
"Not anymore...but they can't know that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because when they did that spell—and believe me, from what Giles said it was even more intense and dangerous than you'd imagine—they wanted the old Buffy back. They needed the happy go lucky version of me who can handle anything. I figure, they went through the trouble, I should be who they asked for. It's not like I really care anymore...I'm only here because they want me to be. So that's who I'll be."  
  
"Don't want this to offend you, luv, but sometimes things change too much for someone to go back to who they used to be. And from what I've seen recently you seem—"  
  
"Uber-destroyed?"  
  
"No. You're as strong as ever somewhere in there, you know that. Think you might need to let yourself be broken for a while though. You've been through enough, you deserve a few months, or however long you need, of heartbreak...that's the only way you'll have people who know how to help you. Can't fix something if you don't know it's broken."  
  
"Guess that's why I have you, huh?"  
  
Stunned couldn't even begin to describe my reaction...  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Spike? Will you freak if I just...sleep here again?"  
  
"Course not."  
  
"Good. Thanks."  
  
By 'here' she apparently meant my shoulder, sitting on the couch in my crypt, watching Three's Company on Nick at Night.  
  
Hello, heaven.  
  
Part Five: If I can't love her...  
  
She comes by almost every night now. Looks at me like she's dying all over again and I'm the only one who can fix it. It's ridiculous, really. The next morning she'll be with her friends, busy being fake plastic Buffy until night when she throws all her troubles on me one more time.  
  
Most people would not put up with this; too bad I love her so damn much.  
  
I still tend to spend most of my moments with Buffy simply amazed that I'm allowed to be so close to her. She's like an exhibit in a history museum; you shouldn't be crossing the red ropes that separate you from those invaluable treasures. Damn, I'm reduced to such a poet when I think of her.  
  
It's not that I mind her coming over here, I love it, love her. It's just bloody stupid of me. Because the inevitable fall out is coming...for every time she says something nice to me there will be a thousand 'I hate you''s somewhere down the road. That's just the way the woman works.  
  
The closer she gets the more I can feel her ready to run away as fast as she can. She's always one-foot-out-the-door. Nothing could ever change that, not her death, depression, or anyone around her.  
  
And as much as I know it'll break me when she finally remembers all the reasons she's supposed to hate me, how much it will kill me when she leaves...I can't turn her away now.  
  
So I just wait for the axe to fall.  
  
Part Six: Where you go when I'm not there.  
  
Buffy reached up to grab the remote control off of the table, next to her dead mother's picture.  
  
Hey, mom. Things were so fucked up.  
  
Dawn would be home from school any minute with a barrage of questions about how Buffy spent her day, how Buffy was feeling, how would Buffy save the world the next time an apocalypse showed up, and finally, why Buffy was always out so late at night.  
  
There were moments when she wished she'd let her little sister die last year. The others probably would have let her stay in heaven. Someone should get to. And then there wouldn't be any annoying questions now.  
  
Of course, the topic of the moment with everyone was finding a "normal person" job for her. Which was just great, because really, that's just what she needed: another job. Saving the world isn't enough anymore, apparently.  
  
She had gone through three different places the other day...only to find herself being attacked by some sort of work demon...or something. She had almost run away that day...to god knows where...anywhere but here. All of her friends and Giles and Dawn were so obviously disappointed in her working abilities. Not living up to their perfectly impossible standards as usual. Maybe they should have just forgotten about resurrecting her and spent more time trying to make the robot function better in daily life. Buffy wondered if they had gotten the robot to slay really well and take care of the house stuff, if they would have bothered to bring her back. Was she here because they loved her so much; or because they needed her so much that they just had to be selfish and do something without thinking of the consequences for her? Buffy tended to think it was the latter...because none of them had ever sat down and told her differently.  
  
So she was about to run away and instead ran to Spike's place, got trashed, and watched some demons play kitten poker in a bar.  
  
He probably already knew...that she couldn't deal with anyone else but him. That he, of all people, was keeping her sane. It was ridiculous. And at some point, it would have to end. She'd turn around one day and not be so bitter at the gang, and would remember that Spike was a disgusting loser. But that day was not today.  
  
At least she should spend less time with him.  
  
I can be out of the house without Spike by my side...there's no way I need him...I'm not needy!  
  
She realized that she hadn't been out without him almost at all since she got back. And he's...Spike.  
  
This needed to be remedied quickly. If she didn't watch out she'd be just as pathetic as Spike has always been. Or maybe she already was...maybe she was even worse.  
  
Part Seven: Normal  
  
When she didn't show up at the house at all that evening, I decided the only thing to do was to get out myself. Figured that as soon as she remembers how much she hates me I would have to get used to this again...might as well practice beforehand.  
  
But there she is, by herself in the Bronze. Didn't follow her here, but if she sees me she'll never believe that. So I sit inconspicuously in a corner, eat more of the blooming onion, and watch her dance.  
  
The strobe lights caress her skin as she moves to the steady beat, lost to the music. You can always tell a person who wants to escape something in their life by the way they dance. She's trying to be as far from reality as possible right now. Probably won't even notice that I'm here, what with her eyes closed and all. She's even ignoring the men who come up and try to dance with her, which is rather hysterical.  
  
The song ends and she stops dancing like she's coming out of a trance. Catches my eye and I guiltily look at her...she's going to be pissed.  
  
She's not though. Instead she walks over to me and grabs a few pieces of the onion.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hey."  
  
Sits down next to me and sighs.  
  
"I didn't follow you here if that's what you're thinking. You didn't come by tonight, so I thought I'd get out a bit on my own."  
  
"It's cool."  
  
"Good."  
  
She looks tired, like she probably had been slaying before this and really didn't have the energy to be dancing so fiercely right now.  
  
"Why are you staring at me?" She asks through one open eye.  
  
"Just...you looked tired is all."  
  
"I'm not. I'm never tired anymore."  
  
"Is that because you don't want to sleep?"  
  
"No. It's because I want to be out of my house and doing something. If I started sleeping I'd be in bed all day. And that's just...even more depressing than the rest of my life. Plus, nightmares."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"You didn't do anything."  
  
It's so hard to think of things to say to her. Buffy's always been a complicated girl, but since coming back she's been even more so. I don't want to start talking about anything that might set her off. So we're silent for a few minutes while I wait for her to decide where to take the conversation.  
  
"Do you dance?"  
  
"Pardon"  
  
"Do you know how to dance?"  
  
"Yeah...I mean, of course I do."  
  
"Want to?"  
  
"Dance?"  
  
"With me."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Umm..."  
  
"Spike. It's just a dance. Aren't you supposed to be all 'anything for you Buffy!' and pathetic and stuff?"  
  
That did it. I could only take so much of this.  
  
"Why would you want to dance with someone you think is pathetic?"  
  
"Because...you're here."  
  
"There's been about seven different men who are also here who've asked you in the past twenty minutes and you turned all them down."  
  
"Well, yeah, but they're all...gross."  
  
"I thought I was gross."  
  
"You are."  
  
"Alright then."  
  
"Okay, never mind." She crossed her arms and pouted for a moment.  
  
"What's wrong, luv?" I had to gloat a little. Did a lot of things for this girl, I damn well deserved a little something in return. I could live with my reward being these moments where she accidentaly tells me that I'm something better than pond scum.  
  
"Don't make me talk about this."  
  
"I don't see why you're talking to me at all. I'm so bloody disgusting and all."  
  
"You're not."  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"You're not 'gross,' okay? But only to me, and I am thoroughly messeed up so it doesn't mean that much."  
  
She rolled her eyes as a genuine smile covered my features.  
  
"How 'bout that dance then, pet?"  
  
"No."  
  
What the hell?  
  
"No?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You were the one who asked me first."  
  
"And then I changed my mind. You're right. I am tired."  
  
"Well then, I'll just head on back to the crypt and see you tomorrow. Or maybe I won't." Grabbing the last of the blooming onion I made my way to the exit of the club. This waiting for the fallout of this mess between us was getting old, didn't need the bitch bringing me down another night.  
  
But then, just as I turned the corner onto the sidewalk I felt her fingers graze my wrist and then slip away promptly as she walked alongside me.  
  
"I don't want to sleep at home."  
  
"Sure. Come on then."  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're not mad?"  
  
"Yeah, I am. But it doesn't matter."  
  
"Oh. Thanks."  
  
"Right."  
  
And that's how it would always be between me and her. She liked nothing better than to always be one step away from intimacy. And as close, physically and emotionally, as I'd like to be to her...this was better. The potential for destruction was lower, we could get by as something like good friends. She'd never make it anything more than that, and it was probably for the best. This way we could still fight without the world falling apart.  
  
It wasn't enough for me, no. But it was all I'd ever get.


End file.
